


Five Lost Moments

by prairiecrow



Category: A.I. Artificial Intelligence (2001), Knight Rider 2000, ReBoot (TV), Real Ghostbusters, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Angst, Artificial Intelligence, Asexuality, Established Relationship, Exile, F/M, First Time, Forbidden, Hope, Loneliness, M/M, OT3, Orgasm, Orgasm Control, Present Tense, Programming, Robot Sex, Robots, Secrets, Stolen Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-25
Updated: 2012-11-25
Packaged: 2017-11-19 12:32:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/573300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prairiecrow/pseuds/prairiecrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A set of fics on the theme of "lost", in five separate universes: The Real Ghostbusters, ReBoot, Knight Rider 2000, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, and A.I.: Artificial Intelligence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Peter Venkman/Egon Spengler

Peter has to admit that out of all the exciting times in a life that is never dull — not when one is a Ghostbuster — these moments are some of the best moments: those precious seconds, so rare and so blazingly hot and bright, when Egon isn't thinking at all. When Peter can reduce him to shivers that course through his whole long lean body, and to moans that he tries to choke back (more or less successfully depending on exactly what Peter's hands and mouth and cock are doing at any given point in time), and to broken blasphemies, and finally to shuddering incoherency. 

Those moments when Egon, always so precisely and so primly in control, surrenders it completely — and that final span of wonderful pounding heartbeats when he throws his head back and his blond hair tumbles recklessly across the pillow and his full lips part ecstatically and he's utterly, wantonly, beautifully, helplessly lost.  

But that's okay, because Peter is always there to bring him back home again. 


	2. Bob/Megabyte

Bob isn't quite sure exactly how it happened. He has always been wild, true, but fundamentally virtuous: dedicated to his work and to the ideals of the Collective to the exclusion of any other desire — 

— until he met Dot Matrix, and suddenly his core motivational processes took a sharp right turn into the realm of the deeply personal. But still he retained his programming, and his unwavering devotion to serve and protect, to mend and defend. He remained a Guardian, albeit a Guardian very much in love. And he never breathed a word of his adoration to anyone, because he had a duty to uphold and an image to protect. 

And then — one kiss, dark and lingering and slyly stolen. And a screaming swerve to the left, the sinister, the completely forbidden. And a fall from grace no less total for being a secret that only one other person shared. 

He knows he can't go down that road. 

He knows he's going to explore it to its limits, sooner or later. 

And he wonders, in the dark and trackless milliseconds of the lonely nights, how he came to be wandering in this wilderness where one wild beast stalks the shadows, coldly ruthless and passionately lethal, patiently waiting to taste every nuance of his life — and of his sacrifice.

 


	3. Shawn McCormick/KITT/Brad Adair

KITT is never lost. Never. He always knows his own precise location, whether in the artificial environments of the VR or the physical coordinates of the Real. And that's just how he likes it: concrete, accurate, quantifiable, reasonable. Lives depend upon his relentless grasp of the specifics, after all. 

Humans, however… humans wander through their entire lives adrift in time and in space. They dart in this direction or that, driven not by rational calculation but by eddies and waves and hurricanes of passionate feeling. KITT is no stranger to emotion, for a specific given value of the term, but the willingness of humanity as a whole to have their actions dictated by such an arbitrary motivator consistently baffles him. Given their irrational nature, he's outright amazed that the species has survived long enough to create a superior form of intelligence — namely, himself — to protect at least some of their number from the greedy predations of the rest. 

And yet here he is, acting as the fulcrum around which the emotions of two of them spin and oscillate — a singularly intimate association, with ample opportunity for in-depth observation and analysis, and somehow they still manage to surprise him on a regular basis. Brad, at least, lacks the impulses of sexual desire (most of the time, anyway), which renders him marginally easier to base behavioural predictions upon, but he nevertheless has highs and lows of amazing scope — and Shawn, even with KITT's own chip providing a moderating influence, is still capable of surges of pure raw feeling that he finds quite inexplicable.  

In spite of all those factors KITT has embraced them both — literally. He's taken them as his lovers, entering a relationship paradigm that theoretically should have been completely outside his purview. They fascinate him, hot-blooded and impulsive creatures though they are. They hold his attention. They draw him deeper. At times they drive him absolutely crazy. There are days when he's convinced they're both completely insane and he'd be better off hauling freight in Alaska than letting either of inside him in any sense of the word. 

And yet… there is Shawn's smile that's meant for him alone, so warm and sweet, and the way Brad's dark eyes light up when KITT comes into the lab, or appears before him in the VR. Each of them has become their own set of coordinates, no matter where the three of them may be in time and space: a place that, to KITT, is indelibly _Home_. 

Humans are chaos on the hoof, no question about it — but KITT has long since decided that he can happily tolerate a bit of that sort of randomness in his existence.


	4. Elim Garak/Julian Bashir

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set post-"The Wire".

Garak has been lost for a long time. Oh, certainly he's physically in one place — a backwater station orbiting the homeworld of an enemy species — and his life is a model of predictable routine, but the fact remains that he has been cast adrift, his place in the Cardassian constellations of responsibility, family and duty erased. As an exile he is as far removed from the State as any non-Cardassian _k'sharzha_ , and as unfit to claim any of its benefits or protections. 

 _A Cardassian alone is a Cardassian without purpose_ , as the old saying goes, and Garak has been banished for so long that even in the depths of the darkest nights he can scarcely recall the texture of scales that are not his own beneath his hands. 

But he is no longer alone. There is a face that smiles for him, although it lacks all proper adornment, and laughter that is meant for him alone to hear. There is a hand that has clasped his own and a life that was ready to sacrifice itself for his sake — and now that hand is extended toward him, inviting him nearer, and when he looks up from it he sees wide dark eyes questioning him, warm and deep and hopeful.  

Against his will his heart moves decisively within him — and he realizes that he has just acquired a pole star, even though it shines in an utterly alien sky.

 


	5. Professor Hobby/Gigolo Joe

"Allen…" On Joe's sweet lips it is the name of God, a trembling whisper of devotion and desire: "Allen, _please_ …" 

Hobby knows full well what he's asking for: the gift that only his master can bestow, three simple words in a precise sequence, and Hobby's voice the only key that can unlock a sensory overload that will obliterate thought itself. After a long leisurely session of lovemaking he's entwined Hobby's imperfectly mortal form with his own flawless limbs, binding them together, pulling Hobby's thrusts even deeper into the silken heat of his body and imploring him with a gaze of unblinking intensity, brilliant and compelling with a depth of need that makes Hobby's heart pound even more fiercely.  

Joe does not love him — not yet — but this tightly focussed yearning, the second harvest of Orison, is a permutation of the transformation to come. Hobby rewards its manifestation with a final lingering kiss, somewhat roughened by his quickened thrusting, and a ragged whisper into the mecha's shell-like ear: 

"Solstice — Astral — Eclipse —" 

Joe's arms tighten convulsively around Hobby and he wails, a musical cry of such exultant ecstasy that Hobby is lost in an instant of joy so savage that it shakes his heart loose from its moorings, just before his own orgasm hits and takes away everything… everything except his beloved beneath him, shivering in every fibre with the sublime force of answering adoration, exquisite and immortal and indelible.


End file.
